


make my heart bleed out my chest

by ShirosRedKnight (SweetFanfics)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Smutty Flashbacks, Temporary Amnesia, Underage Drinking, keith's a lil over 19, shiro's a few months short of 21, they're both cadets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 22:20:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9682490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/ShirosRedKnight
Summary: Fuck, my head hurts so bad,Shiro groans to himself, raising his hand up to touch his pounding head.What the hell did I do last night? And why the hell does my body feel so heavy?He’s gone through a fair number of bad hangovers but Shiro’s never had one where his body feels like it’s weighed down by rocks. Right as he starts to raise himself up on his elbows, there’s the softest snorting noise from his chest. Shiro opens his eyes and stares blearily down at the dark head resting on his chest.What the...Keith’s fast asleep on his chest, arms sweetly curled between their bodies. His confusion turns to sharp dread as soon as he recognizes Keith. But the feeling swiftly turns to embarrassed dismay when Keith’s sleepy wriggle makes Shiro realize they’re both naked in his bed. He’s naked in his bed with his best friend slash the person he’s been crushing on for months.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ~~There's a specific fanart that inspired this mess of a fic in the first place but me and my dumb butt didn't bookmark it RIP. I'll look for it and put it here ASAP lol~~
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> Found it! Inspired by this LOVELY fanart. [RT from here.](https://twitter.com/binumali/status/814927414564225025)
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> For now, please enjoy.

It can be argued that the beginning of the end started from the illicit party one of Keith’s classmates threw in ‘honor’ of their military school’s 20th anniversary. Neither of them are party goers as a general rule. They’re too noisy and crowded for them. Keith finds himself deeply uncomfortable and annoyed at such events and Shiro finds his cheeks hurting thanks to how long he has to keep smiling.

 

So instead, unlike many of the other students, they prefer to unwind in ways that don’t involve liver abuse via excessive alcohol intake. They’ll spar, play card games, study. Parties as something they do  _ rarely _ .

 

But the invitation, for once, is extended to them at just the right time - after a week of grueling midterms and when the official anniversary party was at  _ peak  _ boring. 

 

Full-dress uniforms and an institute get together aren’t exactly “happening” parties anyways. But the Galaxy Garrison anniversary events are more boring than usual thanks to the number of speeches given by various alumni and military people. Most of the cadets seated have a very specific blank look on their faces where you can tell they’re mentally far,  _ far _ away.

 

So when one of Keith’s classmates had snuck up behind them and whispered an invitation to meet up in one of the student rooms, they both had jumped at the opportunity to drink and dance their frustrations away. The only thing Shiro had asked was if there would be alcohol there. As soon as Mark had said yes, Shiro had said, “We’d be there.”

 

It was supposed to be a way to unwind. To indulge in a little bit of rule breaking and let themselves act like any other college student at a party. 

 

The best laid plans however...

 

\--

 

Morning creeps up on him. 

 

There’s sunlight flooding his room, the bright light pressing against his closed eyelids in a way that tells Shiro his roommate has left the curtains open. A pained moan bubbles up his throat, migraine jolting to life faster than Shiro wakes up. 

 

_ Fuck, my head hurts so bad,  _ Shiro groans to himself, raising his hand up to touch his pounding head.  _ What the hell did I do last night? And why the hell does my body feel so heavy?   _

 

He’s gone through a fair number of bad hangovers but Shiro’s never had one where his body feels like it’s weighed down by rocks.  Right as he starts to raise himself up on his elbows, there’s the softest snorting noise from his chest. Shiro opens his eyes and stares blearily down at the dark head resting on his chest. 

 

_ What the _ ... 

 

Keith’s fast asleep on his chest, arms sweetly curled between their bodies. His confusion turns to sharp dread as soon as he recognizes Keith. But the feeling swiftly turns to embarrassed dismay when Keith’s sleepy wriggle makes Shiro realize they’re both naked in his bed. He’s naked in his bed with his best friend slash the person he’s been crushing on for months.

 

In to stop himself from melting in sheer panic, Shiro turns his attention around him. It’s a poor attempt to distract himself from the truth of the moment. They’ve somehow kicked most of the blankets towards the foot of the bed but Keith’s body is mostly covered by an olive green jacket. Probably Shiro’s if he had to take a guess.

 

As he carefully begins to raise his body, trying to shift Keith to the bed, Shiro begins to pick up more hints about what happened last night. Their formal uniforms are strewn across the floor. Their underwear are a pile next to the bed. Keith’s dick is half-hard and poking Shiro’s thigh in a way that’s the older student isn’t  _ ever  _ going to forget. There’s also an uncomfortably itchy feeling in between his thighs and ass. And  _ speaking of his ass _ ...

 

The sticky-itchy-sore feeling coupled with the unfamiliar twinging pain in his lower back tells a clear story on its own. One that sends Shiro’s cheeks aflame. He immediately racks his brain for memories of the last night and comes up blank.

 

_ Think! Think!  _ He tells himself but no. There’s only a long stretch of blackness. If he tries really hard, he can conjure up some maybe sense memories of Keith and him badly sneaking to his room with half a bottle of Jack. His eyes are immediately drawn to the glass bottleneck peeking out from under a black t-shirt.  _ Okay. So that part happened. But what about the rest of the night? _

 

His brain shrugs unhelpfully at him, too busy trying to deal with the jack hammer-esque migraine that’s still banging away inside his skull. Shiro falls back on the bed with a whimper, temporarily forgetting he’s being used as a pillow. 

 

He freezes as Keith begins to stir, holding his breath for so long he actually goes dizzy. A small breath is knocked out of him when Keith’s dick brushes against his thigh again but Keith misses it. He’s too busy planting his hands on Shiro’s chest and pushing himself up.

 

Shiro’s wide eyes peer into Keith’s sleepy dark blue eyes, momentarily marvelling at what a pretty mess Keith looks like with his birds nest hair. As Keith squints in confusion at him, Shiro finds himself wondering if Keith’s hair has grown. It looks more of a fluffy mess than usual. 

 

“Shiro?” Keith rasps. “What’re you doing here?”

 

“It’s my bed.” Shiro’s brain yells angrily as his mouth decides to go rogue.

 

He sees Keith hear the words. Can see the gears slowly clicking and whirring as Keith processes the statement. 

 

Processing, processing. 

 

Ding.

 

Keith’s eyes fly wide open, darting between their naked bodies before coming back up. As soon as he sees Shiro’s blushing face, he darts back. There’s suddenly  _ so much _ naked skin being revealed to him. His fantasies and best wet dreams pale in comparison to the real thing. Shiro catches a glimpse of Keith’s half hard dick before he scrambles back. There’s a hoarse croak from Keith that reminds him of his own nudity, so Shiro hurriedly pulls a pillow across his lap.

 

They sit barely two feet away from each other, Shiro hiding under a pillow while Keith clutches Shiro’s jacket against his stomach. Shiro’s not sure how long they stare at each but it’s long enough for his tailbone to start aching. He slowly readjusts to take pressure off the bone but causes a fresh feeling of itchy discomfort to rise. The urge to stick his hand under the pillow and scratch is  _ high _ .

 

_ It feels just like... _

 

When it finally clicks  _ what  _ the itchy-crusty feeling resembles, Shiro sits up on his knees in panic. Keith leans half an inch back in surprise when he’s asked, “Do you see a condom somewhere?”

 

“Uhhh,” Keith offers intelligently while Shiro frantically checks between the sheets for a flash of foil. Some,  _ any  _ indication that they had sex safe. He finds his bottle of lube right as Keith exclaims, “Oh. In here.” 

 

Looking up, Shiro sees Keith on the bed end. He’s peeking over the edge, in the couple of inches of space between the bed and the study table. Where Shiro’s tucked the waste basket away. Shuffling forward, Shiro kneels next to Keith and stares into the half-filled waste basket. He lets out a sigh of relief when he sees the knotted condom lying on top of a pile of balled up papers.

 

He immediately sits down in relief, wincing when the move sends a bolt of pain zinging up his spine. Keith however, continues to stare at the condom. Shiro wonders what Keith’s thinking about. Does he remember anything from last night? Did the sight of the condom bring a memory or two back? 

 

“How many times did you trash your final report?” Keith finally asks.

 

It’s the last thing Shiro expects to be asked so he figures he’s allowed a moment to gape at the back of Keith’s head before finally answering, “A couple of times.”

 

The sheets tangled around Keith’s hips slip an inch down, revealing more of a bony spine that Shiro aches to trace with his fingertips. As Keith leans forward, the sheets drop another few inches. Right as they reveal the top curve of Keith’s ass, Shiro darts forward to grab the sheets and pull them up.

 

Keith jumps and turns around with a startled look. Face hot, Shiro takes his hand back and mumbles, “It was falling down.”

 

And just like that, things are awkward again.

 

Shiro’s not sure where to look. Is it even okay to look at Keith?  _ Of course it is _ . Then why isn’t he? Why can’t he bring himself to meet Keith’s eyes? 

 

Shame. That’s what it is. Because this isn’t how he wanted things to go. This isn’t how he’d hoped their first time could be. And above it all, he’s scared of what he’ll see in Keith’s eyes if he looks up.

 

“Can you pass me my underwear?” 

 

The question is posed shyly. Shiro’s body moves automatically, leaning over the bedside to grab Keith’s underwear. As soon as he moves, he realizes his mistake. Shiro tries not to think of how Keith can see his ass as he grabs the other cadet’s underwear. And now he’s avoiding Keith’s eyes out of sheer embarrassment once he straightens up, briefs in hand. 

 

After he’s handed Keith his underwear, Shiro sits with his back against the headboard. Chin against his chest, fringe falling across one eye, focusing on the pillow in his lap rather the sound of Keith slipping his underwear back on. 

 

“You can have this,” Keith says when he’s done, kicking the sheets over towards Shiro. 

 

He happily pulls the sheets around him but honestly, it’s too little too late. A lump starts to grow in his throat when Keith hesitates a beat before moving off the bed.

 

Shiro’s eyes fly up to his friend, feeling a flare of something hot and liquid when he suddenly notices the red marks dotting Keith’s collarbone. “Sorry,” Keith apologizes stiffly, bending down to grab his clothes. “I’ve got a flight sim lesson with Hedrick.”

 

With a dumb little nod, Shiro waves the apology away. “‘Course. Yeah, go.”

 

Keith dresses speedily - putting on his t-shirt and wrinkled olive pants before grabbing his jacket and boots and beating a hasty retreat.

 

It’s only when the door swishes close that Shiro remembers Hedrick  _ never  _ arranges  _ any  _ lessons on a Saturday. He goes home off-base every weekend to spend time with his family. 

 

The torn open condom wrapped winks up at him when Shiro stretches his legs out. A cheeky reminder of a night he doesn’t remember and  _ dearly  _ wishes he did. Go figure he finally gets what he wants, he doesn’t have any memory of it. 

 

Shiro clenches his hands into fists, trying to anchor himself as his stomach bottoms out. It doesn’t help. The realization that nothing will be the same again...That he’s lost Keith’s trust... That their friendship is over... There’s nothing there to hold onto. Onto free fall.

 

“Fuck,” Shiro whispers as the full scale of devastation wrought by their drunken actions sinks in. 

 

\--

 

He doesn’t see Keith until dinner time. Shiro’s sitting at his usual table, highlighter in his right hand and spoon in left. Most of his attention is locked on the book he’s reading for his Monday quiz, marking out the important parts of the chapter. What little attention leftover makes sure his left hand brings his spoon into his mouth.

 

After Keith had left and Shiro had talked himself off the ledge of a panic attack, Shiro had sought a distraction. Something to keep his mind off the utter mess they’d made of their friendship. He’d gone to the gym and ran until his thighs protested. Then he hit the books. Nothing like complex astrophysics to get one’s mind off the train wreck of their life. 

 

Shiro distractedly sucks his spoon clean while trying to determine if it would be overkill to highlight the whole paragraph or not. He’s tapping his highlighter against the book when someone pulls up a chair across from him. Curiosity pulls his gaze up and surprise makes him jerk back in his seat. 

 

Keith drops his tray down with a noisy clatter what blends into the noise of the Mess Hall. He doesn’t look up to catch Shiro’s bewildered and cautious look, opting instead to frown at his meal. Shiro watches Keith push some peas around before popping a spoonful of them into his mouth. And wonders what to do.

 

“Umm...” He finally breaks the silence between them, throat drying out when Keith blinks before looking up. 

 

A memory flashes through his mind. 

 

_ He drunkenly giggles at the frustrated look Keith’s sporting. From his angle, all he can see is the angry furrow of Keith’s brow and his sharp nose, but it’s enough. That coupled with Keith’s clumsy fumbling, the whole situation is  _ hilarious  _ to Shiro’s drunk self. _

 

_ Arguably  _ the  _ best pilot in the history of their institute and he couldn’t get Shiro’s pants open. If this isn’t funny, Shiro doesn’t know what is. Then suddenly it’s not hilarious at all when Keith’s long lashes flutter. They kiss pink cheeks in a quick blink before flying up. Shiro feels his breath hitching in wonder. Have Keith’s eyelashes always been so long and pretty?   _

 

_ “Are you laughing at me?” Keith pouts up at him, swaying slightly in his seat on the bed. _

 

_ Shiro shakes his head. He places his hands on top of Keith and helps him unbuckle his stupid belt and open the single button keeping his pants in place. A shiver runs down his spine when Keith’s knuckles brush against his hardening length while clumsily grabbing the zipper tab. _

 

_ As soon as Shiro has kicked his pants off, Keith’s hands draw him into his lap. His own hands grab Keith’s face and pull him in for a long kiss.  _

 

Shiro blinks and is back in the present, staring into Keith’s frowning face. It takes him a beat to find a question to ask. “How was Hedrick?”

 

Immediately Keith shoots him a dirty look that makes Shiro fight down the urge to cringe reflexively. 

 

_ Oops _ .

 

Keith doesn’t answer and Shiro’s not sure how to bridge this gap between them. He just stares at his textbook, highlighter and food forgotten as he tries to navigate through this mess. Should he ask Keith whether or not they can talk? Should he bite the bullet and confess his feelings to Keith? Should he reassure Keith that this was a mistake and that it wouldn’t happen again?

 

He’s still trying to figure out how to extend an olive branch forward when Keith suddenly stands up, empty tray in hand. “See you.”

 

Startled, Shiro watches the other man walk away, wondering what just happened.

 

A few seconds later, Matt takes Keith’s seat with a curious, “Trouble in paradise?”

 

“l- _ What _ ?” 

 

Matt points his fork in the direction Keith left. “You and Keith. Are you fighting already?”

 

Lost, Shiro asks again, “What do you mean, “already”?”

 

“You confessed to him last night at the party. Don’t you remember?”

 

Frozen in horror, Shiro’s mouth falls open but no words come out. He just stares at Matt while a four letter mantra runs through his brain.

 

Matt stares back. His friend’s expression goes from curious to worried to alarm. “Wait. You  _ don’t _ remember? Fuck... That’s bad, Shiro.”

 

That just about sums it up, doesn’t it?

 

\--

 

Come Sunday, Shiro’s the one actively making an effort to avoid running into Keith. Mostly out of mortification. But he knows he’s delaying the inevitable because they, without fail, spar in the evening every Sunday. And the entire situation is made worse by the dreams that plagued him through the night.

 

He’d call them more fantasies his brain cooked up as a result of his intense pining. But Shiro realizes they’re memories of last night coming back to him. The feel of Keith’s gloved hand wrapping around his wrist as he insists they dance. The hot brush of Keith’s laugh against his cheek when Shiro whisper-tells him Matt just turned down a Judy Mitchell’s invitation to dance. 

 

Those were memories he can deal with. It’s the next set of memories that are making him drag his feet on the way to the gym.

 

Shiro can’t stop thinking about the softness of Keith’s thin lips meeting his, kissing his confession away. His knees turn to water every time  _ that  _ memory flashes through his mind. And there are also the other memories which steal his breath and cause him to lose focus, bumping into a few people along the way. 

 

The way Keith’s fingertips had felt against his warm cheek, sliding up into his hair as they’d kissed haunts him. His palms compulsively curl into themselves remembering the smoothness of Keith’s back. His fingers want to run across Keith’s body again, connecting lines between the beauty marks scattered across pale skin. 

 

Opening his locker in the gym locker room brings back the memory of his hands frantically tugging Keith’s belt open without breaking their kiss. Tugging his clothes on reminds him of how Keith’s hands had felt against his body.  _ That  _ memory had made Shiro lean against the cool metal and struggle to keep his dick from hardening. 

 

He’s ten minutes late but his dick’s soft again. Keith glances at him, half-way through a stretch before nodding in greeting. Shiro hesitantly nods in return before starting his own warm-up routine. It’s easy to fall back to old habits as they go through the motions. 

 

They talk about the week past, the work done, and what’s coming up in the coming days. They both make a concentrated effort not to talk about the anniversary dance or the night that had followed. And it is  _ an effort _ for Shiro because a question stands ready on the tip of his tongue. Ready to be asked.

 

_ Do you remember that night? Did you forget it like me and are starting to remember it now? Are you haunted by my touch? Why aren’t you looking at me? Is it because you remember me telling you how I feel? Is this your way of saying no? _

 

A sharp tap against his shoulder snaps him back to reality. “Spot me,” Keith requests while nodding towards the bench.

 

“Okay.”

 

As soon as Keith starts, Shiro realizes what a horrible mistake he’s made in not avoiding this workout. Because the strained noises that keep slipping past Keith’s teeth bring forth an avalanche of memories. 

 

_ Keith pushes in slowly, planting his hand next to Shiro’s head as he bottoms out. Shiro pants up at the ceiling, telling himself to breathe deeper, relax. It’s hard. There’s not enough air between them. The heated gasps he’s sucking in burn into carbon dioxide in nanoseconds. He can’t relax when his entire focus is on not breaking apart at the realization that he’s finally,  _ finally  _ with Keith. _

 

_ “Breathe,” Keith whispers in his ear. _

 

_ With a hard shudder, Shiro tries and fails. His chest continues to rise and fall rapidly, breath hitching when Keith lowers himself down to his elbows. Shiro bites down on his bottom lip but the whimper comes out anyways. Keith peppers his face with soft kisses meant to relax and distract. His hands run soothingly up and down Shiro’s sides and thighs, squeezing the latter in approval when Shiro finally starts to relax. _

 

_ “That’s it.” _

 

_ He turns his face towards Keith, whispering, “Kiss me.”  _

 

_ They kiss over and over again until Shiro has relaxed fully. Until the dull burn between his legs gives way to a pleasant fullness that urges him to move. Shiro curls one thigh around Keith’s hip, keeps the other planted on the bed, and experimentally thrusts up.  _

 

Keith hisses “Fuck!” as he completes another rep.

 

_ Keith’s back is slick with sweat under his palms. There’s nothing to hold onto. His grip keeps slipping. Shiro tightens his thighs but again, sweat. With a frustrated noise, he plants his feet on the bed and groans in relief when he manages to match Keith’s thrusts. _

 

_ The wet slapping noise echoes in the small dorm room, an accompaniment to the obscene moans and filthier comments they’re whispering to each other. Shiro arches his back when Keith’s hand wraps around his dick, groaning the man’s name. _

 

_ Above him, Keith groans- _

 

“Shiro. Help me out.” 

 

Jerking out of his thoughts, Shiro clumsily grabs the bar and helps Keith bring it back. Once it’s safely in place, Keith sits up. Grabs the hem of his shirt and raises it to wipe his face clean. Shiro stares at the dark hair, remembering how soft it’d felt in his fingers. How he’d buried his face against Keith’s ear, gasping and moaning shamelessly when he’d felt his orgasm approaching.

 

_ “Takashi,” Keith moans lowly against his jaw, panting as his hips pick up the pace. He moves onto his knees, hands holding Shiro steady as he fucks into the other man. “Takashi, I...” _

 

_ “Yeah baby, yeah. Come in me,” he begs, still shivering in the aftermath of his orgasm. His still hard cock twitches between them, protesting the stimulation it’s getting between their bodies. But Shiro ignores it, squeezing Keith’s ass to encourage him.  _

 

_ Their pleas mingle together into a messy cacophony that culminates in Keith’s strangled groan as he finally comes. Shiro clings to him, arms and legs holding Keith in place as he relishes the feel of Keith’s lean body trembling against him.Keeps holding onto him until Keith stops shivering, exhales deeply, and whispers, “Takashi, I...” _

 

A snap and Shiro’s back. He stares at Keith’s fingers in betrayal, resenting that they cut his memory off half-way through. When he glances up at Keith, dark eyes go from mildly annoyed to concerned. 

 

“Are you okay?” 

 

He wants to say no. Of course he’s not. Shiro opens his mouth to lie but what comes out instead is, “Of course not!”

 

Keith’s body language changes immediately. It goes from relaxed to defensive so fast Shiro realizes the former had only been a mask. Keith’s just as affected by what’s happened. He’s just been hiding it underneath his usual aloof mask that he presents to the rest of the world. 

 

The realization does nothing to soothe how distraught Shiro feels however.

 

He runs a hand through his hair, trying not to remember how tenderly Keith had done the same only one night prior. His voice shakes as he speaks, “I’m not okay at all! I messed everything up. I messed  _ us  _ up.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Keith’s confused tone is like being shot through the chest. Shiro opens his mouth to ask if Keith doesn’t remember. But then Keith continues, voice suddenly shaky, “You’re not the one who messed things up. That’s  _ my  _ fault.”

 

Shiro opens his mouth to argue, to ask for clarification, when the doors to the gym are thrown open. They glance at the group coming in before exchanging a look. Shiro grabs Keith’s wrist and pulls him out. Keith’s right next to him as they exit the gym, pulling Shiro to the left with a low, “This way.” 

 

Keith leads them into a dusty storage room filled with broken furniture and storage boxes covered with a sheet of tarp. Shiro takes the room in before turning to Keith, who stands with his back against the closed door. His body language screams of his discomfort - Keith’s shoulders are tense, his hands curled against the door, gaze dropping to the floor the longer Shiro silently stares at him.

 

It’s only when Keith looks away that Shiro finds his tongue. “What did you mean when you said it’s your fault?”

 

Those thin shoulders come up another inch, Keith’s expression twisting into something pained and ugly and full of regret before he speaks. His voice is so low Shiro’s forced to step forward to catch Keith’s reply, “Exactly what I said. That it’s my fault we’re messed up right now.”

 

Keith blurts out “If I hadn’t kissed you then you wouldn’t be avoiding me right now!” right as Shiro counts, “But I remember confessing to you!”

 

Their words hang between them for a moment. A couple of seconds where they both process what the other person said and ask, in the same bewildered voice, “What?”

 

Shiro gestures with his fingers, twirling them together. “Back up. If you hadn’t kissed me? I don’t remember that. And I haven’t been avoiding you! You’ve been avoiding  _ me _ !”

 

“You don’t remember?” Keith asks instead. 

 

His confusion is giving way to a hurt look that has Shiro closing the gap between them. The urge to comfort Keith is high. Shiro lets it take over, hesitantly touching Keith’s shoulder and waiting a second for any sign of discomfort before answering, “I remember  _ most  _ of that night but a lot of it is still fuzzy. I remember what we did in my room but before that is...”

 

Like fireworks blooming to life in the sky, red floods Keith’s cheeks. His gaze lowers with a soft “Oh.” 

 

Heat fills his cheeks as well at the realization that Keith is remembering the sex they had. His hand twitches on Keith’s shoulder. The small move pulls dark blue eyes again. Shiro sucks in a quick breath and tries not to let his nerves get the better of him.

 

“What  _ do  _ you remember? Before we...” 

 

He thinks about taking his hand back. But then Keith’s hesitant fingers touch his side and Shiro’s anchored in place. It’s a soft touch that smoothes away the worst of his nerves. Clearing his throat, Shiro begins. 

 

“I remember going to Mark’s room. I remember the first couple of drinks we had.” His lips twitch at the corners in an almost-smile. “I remember you telling me we  _ had  _ to dance.”

 

With a small smile of his own, Keith answers. “It was a good song.”

 

“I uh,” Shiro hesitates before continuing, “I remember you kissing me after I’d told you I liked you. Then it just... jumps straight to us in my room and uuhh... the sex part.”

 

Thin fingers twitch against his side before they slide down to his waist. There they stay, the focus on Keith’s attention as he softly says, “So you don’t remember me kissing you first?”

 

“No.” Shiro doesn’t mean to sound as breathless as he does.

 

He stares at Keith’s lips pressing together before pursing together as he exhales. A pink tongue comes out, liquid quick, to wet dry lips before Keith looks up at him. After two false starts, he finally asks, “Why’d you avoid me today?”

 

“The way you acted at dinner I thought you didn’t want to see me.” Shiro shrugs helplessly. “So I just... stayed out of your way.” 

 

Keith immediately shakes his head in a denial. “That wasn’t it. I thought  _ you  _ didn’t want to see me. The way you acted in the morning made me think you regretted everything that happened the night before so I... I just got upset thinking that you didn’t mean what you’d said. And that you hadn’t really wanted to be with me.”

 

Oh. 

 

Shiro hadn’t realized that’s the kind of impression he’d made when he’d panicked. With a weak laugh, Shiro takes half a step closer and moves his hand up to cup the underside of Keith’s jaw. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. I’d woken up with no memory of what happened and just. I panicked. And you left so last after you lied that I...”

 

With a cringe, Keith apologizes, “Sorry about that but I had to get out of there.”

 

Would it be okay to kiss Keith’s forehead right now? To get rid of that pained expression on the younger pilot’s face? 

 

_ What the hell _ .

 

Throwing caution to the wind, Shiro presses a firm kiss to Keith’s head. And pulls back to see the effect it’s had. Dark blue eyes blink up at him, filled with questions Shiro happily answers. “So, we’re both sorry?”

 

Keith nods slowly, bringing his other hand up to Shiro’s hip. “What now?”

 

“Well,” Shiro lets his palm slide up to cup Keith’s cheek and brings out his best, most hopeful smile. “We could go on a coffee date?”

 

His question causes Keith to grin. He pulls Shiro closer before answering, “I’d love too. But before we do. Can you do me a favor?”

 

“Sure, anything.” Shiro shrugs.

 

Keith pushes himself up to his toes and gently knocks their foreheads together. The sudden proximity steals Shiro’s breath and makes his heart race. “Tell me how you feel about me again?”

 

His stomach flip-flops in nervous excitement. Shiro’s smile goes wobbly at the edges. With a nod, he murmurs, “I really like you Keith.”

 

_ The music is so loud Shiro doesn’t hear Keith calling his name as much as see Keith’s lips forming the shape of it. It immediately makes him grin and open his mouth to ask what’s up when Keith’s hands rise up and hold him. _

 

_ Shiro blinks dumbly at Keith and sucks in a startled breath as their lips connect in a hard kiss. Despite the fact that he’s drunk as hell, Shiro’s brain connects the dots together at a speed even the best supercomputer would envy. So he’s quick to hold Keith and part his lips in open invitation when he feels the tentative sweep of Keith’s tongue. _

 

_ The kiss goes on long enough for a few people to hoot at them and tell them to get a room.  _ That  _ suggestion has Keith pulling away, pink-faced and eager. But Shiro can’t let this go any further until he’s told Keith how he feels for him. _

 

_ So he keeps Keith in place, trapped against his chest for a moment. Shiro grins dopily at the confused face the other man makes before leaning in. With his lips next to Keith’s ear, Shiro yells, “I like you, Keith. Like, like-like _ .”

 

His eyebrows shoot up before coming back down as mortification sweeps him. Shiro groans and hides his face against Keith’s shoulder. “Did I  _ really _ confess to you saying that I “like-like” you?” 

 

“Yeah. You did.” Keith’s lips brush against the shell of his ear, causing a shiver to run down his spine. His low voice is pink with amusement. “It was cute. Very you.” 

 

Shaking his head in disagreement  _ and  _ disbelief, Shiro wonders if he can spend the rest of the week hiding shamefully in this spot. But then Keith’s wrapping his arms around Shiro with a small laugh. “Come on. It wasn’t  _ that _ bad, was it?”

 

There’s the faintest hint of worry under Keith’s tone that makes Shiro pull away with a sigh. “I wanted to tell you  _ properly _ . I had a plan and everything about how I’d tell you about my feelings for you. I didn’t want to tell you I liked you when I was  _ drunk _ .”

 

Keith smiles up at him. His thumbs rub short arcs into Shiro’s sides. “We still could if that’s what you want. We could have a do over.”

 

“No,” Shiro shakes his head, smile growing. “I don’t want to forget it happened. Even if it was messy.”

 

With a smile warm and bright enough to rival the sun, Keith pulls Shiro in for a kiss. It’s a long, tender thing that breaks down into many shorter, sweet kisses. Their lips meet over and over again with soft sounds of pleasure until their lips tingle and their hearts are light.

 

“I’m glad you remembered,” Keith whispers after a particularly long kiss that makes Shiro shiver.

 

He grins back, “I’m glad you kissed me.”

 

Keith reels him back in for another kiss for that. Shiro’s sighing at how  _ good _ Keith feels in his arms when someone raps on the door. “Anyone in there?”

 

They pull apart with a pop. Shiro’s about to ask who’s on the other side when Keith beats him to the punch, replying back, “Hang on.” 

 

Shiro shoots him a bewildered look because  _ what _ ?

 

“A lot of couples come here to make out,” Keith explains quickly, keying a code into the control panel next to the door before taking hold of Shiro’s hand. He uses the grip to pull Shiro out of the door.

 

As they pass through the doorway, Shiro starts to ask how Keith knows that but forgets about it as he meets the eyes of one of the two girls slipping in past them. So instead of asking his original question, Shiro finds himself asking, “Was that Betty Worthington?”

 

Keith shoots a glance back at the now closed doors before shrugging. Shiro lets out a surprised, “Huh.” before shaking his head. The curious head tilt Keith gives him makes him shake his head. “It doesn’t matter. Where are  _ we _ going?”

 

“Your room,” Keith answers immediately, fingers tightening around Shiro’s wrist. His dark eyes are filled with wicked promises eager to be filled when he glances back at the taller cadet. “I’m going to see if I can help you remember  _ every detail  _ of that night.”

 

Just like that, all the moisture in his mouth dries up and turns to dust. His heart shifts into overdrive, eager and nervous in equal parts. Shiro can’t help but grin broadly when picks up the pace, now a step ahead of Keith rather than behind. “Promise?” He teasingly asks.

 

Keith hip checks him but answers, “Promise.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'll come back and beta/edit/clean/add more to this later. RN it's 4:38am and i gotta sleep.


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